Hours of exertion ; grunting, straining, sweating, panting. Meticulous and painstaking effort to bring every detail in to line, every stray particle into submission. Consumed by a never ending drive for perfection, and destroyed by a by a mind that will never see satisfaction. Constantly chasing, forever cultivating, and relentlessly yearning for the ultimate aesthetic.
And yet; not a hint of recognition. Not a trace of desire. Not a fragment of admiration, nor a spark of appreciation.
Not a single word.
And so I fish.